Sold

There is a giant mountain
Behind another mountain,
Lit by houses
Like stars laden to its silhouette.
And here I am, in a desert.
Where giant are the buildings
Laden with all fancy and bright,
Making me blind.

There is a gushing river,
Schools of fish,
The Victoria bridge I looked from.
Beside which lies an ancient cave.
And here I am, on a parapet,
Watching a dead stream.
Beside which lies a new road.
Golden but grave.

There is plenty of air,
Pure and cold.
Fragrance of the fresh,
An elixir to breath.
And here I am, amidst the puffs
Of smoke, flying dust.
For the future’s lure,
My breath is sold.

There is a forest.
A forest of chirps,
Of snarls, roars.
Belonging to the fittest.
Ensembled present of hopes.
And here I am, again in a forest
Of concrete, horns and honks.
Belonging to the weaks
Of intelligent stature.
Entangled in the illusion of the past,
Now, fixing futures.

There is a sky so blue.
Where my dreams would fly
With a circus of stars
And find way,
Lit by the moon.
Here, I am, chasing those
Under a hazy roof,
Dusky days, my way at the mercy,
Lit by a street pole.
Because the night is never black,
Twinkling is a lost phenomenon.
I gaze at the solitary moon
For that is all I have, here,
As I write where I am.